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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637379">The Truce</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastyPirate/pseuds/PastyPirate'>PastyPirate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Grief, I create relatives for Nicky just to kill them off, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Violence, Lovers who find out they should be Enemies but they really arent, M/M, Pining for someone you're in a relationship with, Prohibition Era Mafia AU, Slice of Life, Some Plot, actually talking about feelings for a change, adopting your niece, but when you've got a man like joe..., inappropriate thoughts at a funeral, loss of family, mostly pining, no homophobia in this sandbox ive created for myself, or right after a funeral I suppose, some OCs, who needs plot when you can have just a bunch of Character studies?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 09:28:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26637379</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastyPirate/pseuds/PastyPirate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So did you fuck an Al-Kaysani or something?” Andy asked, leaning back on her chair like she didn’t just own the joint but the city it was in. </p><p>“What?” Nicky said, a little more flat than he meant to. </p><p>“Al-Kaysani’s favorite nephew up there can’t take his eyes off you,” Andy tilted her head slightly. </p><p>Nicky knew better than to look, but he did anyways, twisting in his seat to find Joe, leaning against a pillar on the second floor and drinking a beer like nothing bothered him. Nicky knew him too well to be fooled. </p><p>In which: Nicky and Joe have been keeping a secret from each other. It happens to be the same secret. They're both darlings of opposing Mafia factions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>598</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Truce</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a lot of pomp that Nicky should’ve been expecting. Men who had minded him when he was a kid now holding the door open for him as he slid into the backseat. Lots of nods and “Boss” thrown his way as he walked by. He kept his head high, nodding back where necessary, picking up new names and faces where he had to. It’d been a long few days of him making decisions he didn’t think he’d have to make, and people following his orders quicker than he expected.  Still, by the time he slid into the car he was hoping for just two seconds of privacy. </p><p>Which, of course, he didn’t get. </p><p>The door on the far side clicked open, and he barely managed to keep his sigh in when Joe sat down next to him. </p><p>The driver turned around, frowning and curious. </p><p>“Give us a second will ya Jimmy?” Nicky asked, hoping he didn’t sound as tired as he felt. From the way Joe’s eyes went puppy dogesque he figured he did. </p><p>Jimmy hesitated, long enough for Nicky to arch a brow at him, before he hopped out of the car. He moved to stand in front, staring through the window back at them. </p><p>“What are you doing here Joe? Or is that really your name?” It was a low blow after all - </p><p>“This coming from you Mr. Call-Me-Nicky? Nicky Smith. I should've known that was a fake name.” Joe settled into the seat, his long legs barely fitting in the wheel well. So few men were taller than Nicky, he always liked that Joe had a couple inches on him. “Didn’t realize Nicky was short for Nicolò di Genova.” Joe nodded his head towards the window “of the famous Genova Family” </p><p>“You’re one to talk, Al-Kaysani.” Nicky shot back. “When were you planning on telling me?” </p><p>Joe smiled slow, a grin that had Nicky’s undershorts tightening in a way that was definitely not appropriate at his father’s funeral. </p><p>“Before I introduced you to my parents,” Joe said, “But that would’ve been an awkward conversation given what we now know. Were you planning on just never coming back to town?” </p><p>Nicky looked around at his father’s men, well now his men, standing about the car studying him. Some of them had been around since the beginning. Some of them were new and glared at him when he wasn’t looking. One named Keane had a tendency to question him that he didn’t particularly like. </p><p>“I’ve spent the last week, preparing three different funerals, and every scrap of free time I had was spent trying to figure out what I could telegram to the guy I’d been stepping out with that didn’t sound criminally insane.” Nicky said, before he rolled his head to look towards Joe, “Up until 20 minutes ago that is.” </p><p>“No wonder you never wanted to talk about the family business.” That crinkle at the corner of Joe’s eye got Nicky every time. “You could’ve said something before you left. About what was wrong. I wouldn’t have gotten mad.” </p><p>“I didn’t know what was wrong when I left.” Nicky finally gave in, rubbing his neck and dropping his head back on the headrest. “No one told me until I got off the train.” </p><p>“Nicky…” Joe trailed off, and Nicky didn’t want to look at him. He might break if he did. He couldn’t handle Joe pointing out what they both knew. A mafia take on Romeo and Juliet. If Romeo and Juliet had been two fairly competent adults who happened to belong to opposing factions. </p><p>“You should go,” Nicky jerked his head towards the crest of the hill, towards a woman, (<i>Nile</i> she introduced herself earlier) carrying a three year old toddler. “My niece will want to ride with me.” </p><p>“We should talk.” Joe said, and Nicky watched as his niece vaulted out of Nile’s arms and ran towards the car. </p><p>“I don’t think we have time,” Nicky finally looked at him, his heart twisted. All week he’d been able to bear … everything because in the back of his mind Joe was waiting for him at his apartment. Now the fantasy was ripped away along with the rug under his feet. </p><p>“I didn’t mean right now. Can I come see you later?”  Joe’s eyes tracked Carina’s waddling steps towards Nicky’s door. </p><p>Nicky didn’t have time to respond before Carina tugged open the door. He moved quickly to scoop her up. Slamming the door shut behind her. </p><p>“There she is,” Nicky tried his best to smile. The poor thing had no idea what was going on. She met his tiny smile with one of her own, a family trait. He shifted her to his side, settling her on the middle seat. “Carina, say hi to Joe.” </p><p>Carina twisted away from Joe into Nicky’s side, nestling her face as far into his side as she could manage, her thumb lodged in her mouth. </p><p>“She’s shy, she’s met a lot of strangers over the last few days.” Nicky said apologetically. He looked around the car and saw Keane looming closer. Watching them a bit too closely. </p><p>“It’s okay, some other time then,” Joe put his hand on the handle, which Jimmy took as the sign to return to the driver’s side. </p><p>Thinking quickly, not wanting to let Joe slide out of his grasp as too many people had in the last week, Nicky switched to his shoddy Arabic, intentionally choosing simple words he’d learned, “you know where my father signed the paper with your uncle?” </p><p>Joe nodded, his foot out the door as he waited for Nicky to finish. </p><p>“Meet me there tomorrow at noon.” Nicky finished. Jimmy slid into the front seat and Joe stepped out of the car. Like a well oiled machine. </p><p>Joe leaned down, sending a smile Nicky’s way that didn’t hold a candle to his usual one. Their eyes locked together for the briefest of moments. “My condolences, Signore.”</p><p>Joe walked away, leaving the door open for Nile to slip in his place. </p><p>“Boss?” Jimmy asked, settling in behind the wheel. </p><p>“Let’s take Carina home,” Nicky patted Carina’s back. He liked Nile but he avoided her eyes all the same. “I still have to go to the wake.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>This was precisely the reason why Joe never came home anymore. He wasn’t sure why he had in the first place. As soon as he stepped through the door he’d be pulled into family politics. He’d been off the train for less than ten minutes when his uncle informed him that they had to make an appearance at a funeral.<p>He just wanted to lay around with his siblings and cousins to eat snacks. Not find out that his beau was now the head of a crime family with only the most tentative of alliances with his own. Tossed into a whirlwind of confusion and a desperate need to comfort that gnawed him to the bones. </p><p>Now he was stuck on the upper balcony at <i>Andy’s,</i> the only speakeasy that wasn’t claimed by any one family, watching boss after boss come up to Nicky to pay condolences. </p><p>Nicky looked miserable, although Joe knew that no one else would be able to tell. Joe had made it a goal of his to be able to decipher all of Nicky’s stoic faces. But anyone who knew Nicky would know that he hated being the center of attention. Hated having to receive other people’s agony - pretend or otherwise - when he could do nothing to fix it. He also hated overly sweet drinks and the cocktail the waitress set down at his elbow looked like it was fruit punch. </p><p><i>They say the eldest son went crazy, killed his father and his sister</i> his uncle said on the way to the funeral. <i>Leaving behind the youngest who hasn’t been seen outside the family house in years.</i></p><p>It was hard to piece together this Nicky with the one he’d spent the last two seasons wooing. The man he’d felt might be <i>the one</i> even though Joe had been previously adamant that soulmates weren’t a thing. That Nicky spoke fondly of his sister, and his father, was notoriously tightlipped about his older brother, and had a photo of his niece in his wallet. None of that had screamed mob kid to Joe. Who, as a mob kid himself, had spent a lot of time around all of them. </p><p>No, Nicky was refreshingly humble, and deeply kind. </p><p>And now he was hurting. </p><p>They never spoke about what they were to each other. They’d slid into the relationship like a duck sliding into water. No promises or tender <i>I love yous</i> swapped late at night. At first Joe told himself they were simply casual. Two attractive men with time on their hands. He wasn’t sure when that became a lie. </p><p>Joe watched as Andy herself came out of the office, and crossed the dining room floor to Nicky’s side. </p><p>The facade dripped away, and one of Nicky’s tiny smiles came on his face. He stood up and wrapped his arms around Andy as she wrapped hers around him. A tight, close hug that made Joe ache with memories of long nights in those same arms. </p><p>Joe should’ve known better than to come home.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>“So did you fuck an Al-Kaysani or something?” Andy asked, leaning back on her chair like she didn’t just own the joint but the city it was in.<p>“What?” Nicky said, a little more flat than he meant to. </p><p>“Al-Kaysani’s favorite nephew up there can’t take his eyes off you,” Andy tilted her head slightly. </p><p>Nicky knew better than to look, but he did anyways, twisting in his seat to find Joe, leaning against a pillar on the second floor and drinking a beer like nothing bothered him. Nicky knew him too well to be fooled. </p><p>“Did you and Joe-” Andy started. </p><p>Nicky turned back to her and shot her a glare. “Andy.” </p><p>“Right, right,” Andy looked around at all the tables nearby. “Although I know him, and you’d make a good couple.” </p><p>“You know him?” Nicky asked. </p><p>“Yeah, he appeared within the fold about the time you bounced off to college to get one of your many degrees. He was an enforcer for a bit, but apparently he’s more of an artist than anything else.” </p><p>A damn good artist, and Nicky was a judgemental critic. He wanted to look back at Joe one more time, to have just a tiny bit more of him to hold on to. He wanted nothing more than to go home with him and lay in his arms. Nicky could spend all day making decisions if he at least got to do that. </p><p>“We’ve met,” Nicky finally said. There was no point in trying to say more. It didn’t matter anymore. They’d have to say their goodbyes and Nicky would be stuck here, in his father’s shoes. “Andy, you knew my brother just as well as anyone.” </p><p>“Unfortunately, not to speak ill of the dead, but…” she shrugged. </p><p>“Right, that's what I mean. And he’d do a lot of fucked up shit for this - my family.” He looked around and leaned in close, “but he wouldn’t have done this.” </p><p>“That’s what the PD thinks too. Detective named Copley has been sniffing around. You’ll probably run into him at some point.” </p><p>“Already have. I had to -” <i>identify the bodies</i> couldn’t cross his lips, he crossed his arms and leaned on the table, “I met him at the precinct.” </p><p>Andy looked at him for a moment, before smirking. “he’s really bad at pretending he’s not watching us.” </p><p>Nicky didn’t need to look up to know she was changing the subject. </p><p>“You’re just more observant than most,” Nicky would bet good money that no one else in the bar noticed. Joe could be sneaky when he wanted to be, cornering Nicky to spend a day on a boat when he meant to be working on his research. Or getting past all the guards so they could sip champagne on the rooftop of old churches. But he didn’t want to taint the past with the rolling storm of emotions going on in his stomach at that moment, “I’m worried about Carina.” </p><p>“Ahead of you there. Nile is one of mine. She’s good with a dagger, better with a gun, has the patience of a saint. She actually gets along with Booker.” </p><p>“Booker isn’t all that bad,” Nicky said, looking around for the perpetually drunk lawyer. </p><p>“Don’t get me wrong. I adore Booker, as much as I adore anyone.” She leaned forward and smirked, “Joe and Booker also get along.” </p><p>“I brought you something,” Nicky pulled the wrapped baklava out of his coat pocket, putting it on the table between them, “since Booker isn’t here to bet I’m just going for bragging rights.” </p><p>“Oh Nicky, I’ve missed you.” She picked up the package and tilted her head towards the door next to the stage. “I want to enjoy this in private. Walk with me.” </p><p>Nicky stood up, picking up the coat and draping it over his shoulders as he always did. He could feel dozens of eyes following him around the room. Subtly and not so subtly. <i>There goes Stefano’s son, poor bastard.</i> Everyone wanted to know what kind of boss he’d make. </p><p>Andy held open the door, tilting her head inwards. Nicky fought the urge to look back, especially when his every move was being analyzed and critiqued. As he stepped in the doorway he looked up at the balcony. Joe was nowhere to be seen. </p><p>Nicky looked forward, walking in the narrow path between burlesque dancers preparing for their turn on stage, magicians struggling with their doves, a quartet pretending not to be watching the girls. Behind him he could hear Andy listing ingredients, he looked back at her and knew that he had lost yet again. She had that gleam in her eye. </p><p>Normally he’d be more annoyed but there was too much going on in his head to even appreciate the art of trying to fool Andy. His grief was a tidal wave threatening to overcome him, and he was hastily trying to get everyone off the beach before it hit. Now he’d found that the beach had the one person who could help him the most - the one person who could rightfully abandon him now that he knew the truth. </p><p>“Just because you get it from the next town over doesn’t mean I’m not going to figure it out,” Andy said as she opened the door to her office. </p><p>“I’m going to get you one of these days,” Nicky said, settling into a deteriorating overstuffed chair. Everything in her office was cobbled together from the many decades the lounge had occupied that particular corner. She settled on the edge of her desk, not bothering to squeeze around it to sit in her own chair. </p><p>“I’ll give you a pass this week, I’m impressed you managed to get it for me.” </p><p>“I was waiting outside of the train station to be picked up.” Nicky shifted in his seat, “I thought I could come see you earlier but…” </p><p>Andy wasn’t one for sympathy. Or, rather she was but her sympathy took on a different tint then most people. She glanced at him, her mouth tilting into an almost frown. “What's on your mind Nicky?” </p><p><i>Where did Joe go?</i> but he couldn’t say that, “Inside job.” </p><p>“What makes you think that?” She asked, propping her fist behind her as she leaned back. </p><p>“The police are looking at Karim and his men, but my father and Karim’s understanding has lasted five years. Plus Karim isn’t sloppy.” Nicky said. Up until earlier that day the majority of his thoughts had revolved around the bullet wounds and cold metal slabs. He’d been away for years, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten what the landscape looked like. </p><p>“What makes you think it’s sloppy?” Andy asked. He bet she had her own ideas. </p><p>“I’m still alive.” He said, shrugging his shoulders, “I can imagine that Carina would be left out. But Karim would’ve sent a man after me.” and found his nephew in Nicky’s bed. “Plus, Junior is - was left handed. But the entry wound was on the right.” </p><p>“That is sloppy.” Andy reached out with her toe, nudging him in the knee, “I’m glad whoever it is didn’t come after you.” </p><p>“That’s the thing. I don’t think they knew I existed. Father never really wanted to own up to the fact that his youngest son taught -” </p><p>“Fantasy.” </p><p>“-<i>Theology</i>. He didn’t want people knowing there was a way out. Also it was someone who didn’t realize that if Junior and Adele weren’t around -” </p><p>“That you’d be next in line.” Andy studied him for a moment, “Who doesn’t know that the family goes by blood not by standing?” </p><p>“Someone from a different city.” Nicky said, shrugging, “I still don’t know what the ulterior motive is.” </p><p>“What happens if you die? You’re the last direct descendent.” Andy asked. </p><p>“Well. Let’s hope I don’t have to find out.” Nicky said, standing up. “As much as this is fun. I think I should go home.” </p><p>“I guess you’ll be sticking around a bit.” Andy said, “what are you going to tell the university?” </p><p>“Family problems. I don’t know I haven’t thought that far ahead,” he hadn’t thought about his students or the school at all. All week he’d wondered if Joe’s free spirit would be amenable to moving from his fifth floor walk up to a mansion surrounded by rolling hills and top notch security guards. </p><p>“If you need anything,” Andy said, “and I’m not just saying that to posture myself closer to il Genova.” </p><p>“I know,” Nicky said, trying his best to smile, “I’ll let you know.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>The newspapers didn’t have much on it. What little they had occupied the entire first page but could be boiled down to <i>Sure it looks like a murder suicide, but no one is buying that.</i> Joe tried to ask around about it, but all he got was shrugs and worried glances.<p>The one tidbit of information he got was a family photo. An older one if the clothes were anything to go by. <i>The Genova Family from right to left, Stefano, Stefano the Second, Adele, and Nicolò.</i> The newspaper called him the sole survivor, like he’d been there in the mansion when it happened. Not two hundred miles away fucked out and sleepy in Joe’s arms. </p><p>Joe wondered if Nicky had seen the suspected time of death and thought the same thing. Did the same math to the last night they’d been together. </p><p>“What are you moping about for?” Joe’s favorite uncle Karim asked as he walked into the conservatory where Joe took his breakfast. “What's this? Reading a paper? Go out and see the sights if you’re only going to be here for a week.” </p><p>“It’s just sad is all,” Joe shifted the paper so his uncle could see the cover page, “I met him once. Stefano.” </p><p>“He was a good man. A right bastard and an asshole at times, but a good man.” Karim settled into his chair, reaching back to flick a plant leaf. “Have you met his youngest?” </p><p>“Hmm,” Joe said, noncommittal. Afterall they technically hadn’t been introduced in a professional setting. </p><p>“I remember when he worked for his father.” Karim said. And Joe knew he shouldn’t be shocked. Afterall Joe had put in some time too. Nicky didn’t seem the type to wield baseball bats and scare off people who owed his father money. </p><p>“He -” Joe cut himself off, reminded himself to be level. The alliance was tentative at best, and if Nicky was done with him it was best that Karim never know it ever happened in the first place. “The paper said he teaches at a university.” </p><p>“Ah yes, somewhere upstate. But he helped build up his father’s empire.” Karim tilted his head to point out Nicolò, Joe took the opportunity to once again look down at the photo. He looked young, no smile on his face like his siblings, his hair perfectly combed down in a way it never was in real life. “He did collections. Usually when someone particularly nasty was involved.” </p><p>“Nasty?” Joe couldn’t imagine it. </p><p>“Oh yes. Junior, that’s what everyone calls Stefano the second, wore his crazy on the surface. No one would mess with him. But Nicolò? Everyone knew that he wasn’t some sweet boy who spent all of his time at confession.” Karim chuckled, “I bet he could give you a run for your money.” </p><p>“Hmm,” Joe said. Afterall Nicky had given him a run for his money more times than he could count. Not necessarily in the same way that his Uncle met. “He seems like the type to have a sword under his bed.” </p><p>“Ha! You heard that rumor?” Karim said, “family heirloom they say.” </p><p>Joe had found the sword one time when they had spent a lazy saturday listening to the radio on the floor of Nicky’s flat. The familiar shape of a blade swaddled in cloth for protection had him pulling it out and teasing Nicky about his love of <i>swords.</i></p><p>“Am I one to judge?” Joe said setting the newspaper back down, “I have a scimitar in my suitcase” </p><p>Karim laughed again, patting Joe on the shoulder. “I can’t help but feel like you and Nicolò would get along. You should stick around and see if you can’t help usher in a more peaceful era.” </p><p>He made another noncommittal noise, he doubted his uncle wanted him to stick that close to Nicky.</p><p>“It's a shame. Stefano was notorious for spreading everything out across all of his children. And now everything was left to him, the buildings, the bank accounts, the connections, the laundromats, the speakeasies. All it would take to send their family scattering is for the killer to come back and finish off Nicolò before he gets his house in order.” He sighed and looked down, “Shame, I hear he really liked teaching.” </p><p>Joe gripped the armrest under the table. If his Uncle knew it then not many others would fall behind. He just wanted to talk to Nicky to comfort him, figure out where they stood, if the last name Al-Kaysani was a dealbreaker to him. Now he was beyond worried. His eyes flickered up to the clock. Too many hours until noon.</p><p>“He’ll be fine. A good boss to work with.” His Uncle continued, as if he was trying to reassure himself. “Nicolò has always seemed to be more … levelheaded than his brother. If you’d like to place worry you should aim it at Merrick.”</p><p>Joe couldn’t sit here and make idle small talk about the families pitching for power. “I’m going to go say hi to Andy.” The chair scraped against marble as he stood up, “I’ll be back later tonight.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> # </p>
</div>The map was a basic triple A type, with buildings they owned marked in green. Not all the buildings they owned, or rather Nicky owned. Just some of them. Others marked in a rainbow of colors. He’d been gone for a while but he could recognize territories as needed. Al-Kaysani lands marked in a deep purple, the same kind that Romans used to use to mark their royalty. Someone had raided a chess set to put kings, pawns, knights, rooks, and queens on specific points. It wasn’t hard for Nicky to tell what was going on.<p>“You’re suggesting an attack on Al-Kaysani’s territory?” Nicky asked, settling against the edge of a desk. The library - what Adele had affectionately referred to as the war room - had no shortage of mahogany wood to lean against. Along with twelve foot high paintings that his father had commissioned. As if he was trying to be a renaissance era purveyor of the arts rather than a Mafia don. </p><p>“We seem weak right now,” Keane said, settling the King on the map, right next to the building where Nicky first shot someone. “We need to show our strength. And he’s most likely the person who ordered the hit on the first place” </p><p>“So what you’re suggesting is we torpedo the only alliance we have that has kept the peace in this city? My father’s greatest triumph? Based on some shoddy evidence?” Nicky picked up the King, rolled it in his fingers, and wished he could just punch Keane. “As a show of strength? If you ask me it smacks of cowardice.” </p><p>“Stefano was -” </p><p>Nicky placed the king back on the table, at the edge of the map, “Don’t presume to tell me who my father was.” </p><p>That stopped Keane for a moment. But Nicky could see him analyze, backtrack, retrack. </p><p>“Sorry, I just spent the last few years working at your father’s side. I was one of his closest confidants.” </p><p>“Two years.” Nicky corrected, moving to sit on the desk more fully, “and Keane - what is that? Is that English?” </p><p>Keane’s jaw clenched, the skin jumping at the edge of his beard, “It’s Irish.” </p><p>Nicky waited, staring at Keane. Men like him were always quick to defend. </p><p>“Do you have a problem with the Irish?” He asked. </p><p>“No, although I do hate the English.” Nicky shifted on the table. </p><p>“In the last two years your father never mentioned you.” Keane leaned back on his seat as if he didn’t have a care in the world. </p><p>“That’s funny, he never mentioned you either. And we talked often.” Nicky had a bad feeling about Keane from the moment they met. Power hungry men always set his teeth on edge. Well the ones he wasn’t related to that is. “Also it’s not my fault you didn’t ask about me,” Nicky tilted his head towards the wall, “I’m right there.” </p><p>Keane froze, confused, before turning around to look at the twelve foot tall painting his father had commissioned of him. He was standing in a doorway, his back to the viewer, and a page boy cap pulled over his hair. The Italian landscape beyond the doorway was an imagination of the dedicated artists. Standing for the portrait had been a pain, both literally and figuratively. He swore never to do it again only for Joe to make a liar of him. </p><p>“It’s odd to me that you’d see my brother and my sister -” His sister was sitting in a window sill, and his brother on steps, both with stunning backdrops of an imagined Italy “- and not question that there might be a third child. That’s neither here nor there.” </p><p>“Well it’s odd to <i>me</i> that you’d come out of nowhere and reap all the hard work we’ve been putting in.” </p><p>“Your dedication is inspiring, but you should know your history. When we got to this country we had nothing more than the clothes on our back and Adele’s precious doll. Did anyone hand us anything? No. My father did everything back then, built an empire. We helped of course.” Nicky patted the stack of books next to him, “the first books I took care of. I do an annual audit to make sure we’re on track. Adele made the connections, Junior - well you know what Junior did. The whole reason why I went to college was to fulfill a promise my father made to my mother. I’m a bit of a completionist.” </p><p>Nicky began to pick up the chess pieces, setting them at the edge of the table next to the king he’d removed. “Without the three of us father wouldn’t have had anything. You wouldn’t have the paycheck that puts food in your mouth or the roof over your head. So when I say we’re not attacking Al-Kaysani then I mean <i>we’re not attacking Al-Kaysani.</i>”</p><p>Keane’s eyes narrowed, “I’m not trying to be insensitive, I know that this is a hard time for you but -”</p><p>“I’ve often found that whenever someone has ‘but’ halfway through a sentence it makes me upset. Now I know what kind of man I am, but you do not. Is this a risk you want to take?” Nicky spoke levelly. He wouldn’t make idle threats, and he certainly didn’t usually threaten his father’s - well now his subordinates. He already knew that Keane, whatever his motivations, would have to be taken care of before he spread poison to the rest of the group. He’d have to ask Jimmy about him. Not for the first time he wished Adele was there to tell him everything as they kneaded dough to bake their weekly bread.</p><p>“My apology. I can see your reasoning now.” Keane stood up, and walked out of the room leaving Nicky alone with the map and the books. </p><p>Nicky looked down at the books, each one marked a different enterprise. All of them were of course completely false. There was only one book worth having and it wasn’t anywhere in the mansion. He had a good idea he knew where it was. He also had a good idea he knew who might be vying for more power in the organization. Maybe to start a war. He just wasn’t sure why. </p><p>“Jimmy,” Nicky called, checking his gun holster before looking around. Jimmy stepped into the room and inclined a head at him, “where’s Carina?” </p><p>“Nile has taken her to the park for the afternoon.” </p><p>“Alright. Let Nile know I’ll be back before dark to put Carina to bed.” Nicky stood up and dusted off his coat. “I’m going out.” </p><p>“Would you like me to drive you?” Jimmy asked. Nicky tried to imagine having a heartfelt conversation with Joe while Jimmy sat in the car a few feet away. </p><p>“No, I’ll be fine on my own.” Nicky said. Jimmy hesitated ever so slightly. “What is it?” </p><p>“It’s just, the killer is at large.” Jimmy looked around the room, “are you sure you should be without the men?” </p><p>“The men would only kill him before I had the chance.” Nicky patted Jimmy on the shoulder, “I’ll see you in a few hours.”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> # </p>
</div>“I know you’re dying to ask me,” Andy said, leaning back and folding her hands under her head. A member of the band dropped his tuba, the discordant sounds of brass hitting wood echoing in the empty midday joint.<p>“I’m not dying to ask you anything.” Joe said, watching the other band members tease the man who picked his tuba up with a flush on his face. </p><p>“Well I’m dying to ask you how you met Nicky,” Andy said. “He doesn’t date often.”</p><p>“He told you about me?” Joe asked, twisting in his seat. Andy’s slow smirk was enough of an answer, “you asshole.”</p><p>“You fall for it everytime.” Andy said, before she let out a chuckle. “Come on, tell me. I love romance stories.” </p><p>“No you don’t.” Joe waited a moment, then two, “we were met at a dinner party. We got into an argument about a psalm and ruined the night for everyone.” </p><p>“A psalm?” Andy scoffed, “how do you get from arguing about psalms to staring lovingly at each other’s heads from across a crowded room?”</p><p>“That’s a story for another time.” Joe shifted in his seat, “You’ve known Nicky for a long time right?” </p><p>“Since he was a gangly twelve year old fresh from Italy.” Andy said. </p><p>“Do you think he’ll -” Joe stopped himself. He shouldn't ask. He couldn’t ask Nicky to give up the ties to his family just as he was sure Nicky wouldn’t ask him either. “He’ll make a good boss.” He finally said.</p><p>“I give him a year before he’s managed to hand off the reins and disappear in the ether.” </p><p>“What?” Joe asked, his head turning so fast his neck hurt slightly. </p><p>“I mean, he won’t disappear from you. But Nicky was the one to go to college for a reason. He’s got the muscle, the skill, the rage, but he’s not thirsty for it.” She gestured vaguely, “The ruling I mean. He’s always been a behind the scenes kind of guy. He’ll probably end up being a guard to fugitives or something.” </p><p>“You don’t think that.” Joe said, shaking his head, “everyone keeps saying how he helped build the empire. Hell you just said it.” </p><p>“Nicky loves a good bet but he also knows when to fold.” </p><p>That Joe knew. That was a part of the Nicky he recognized. </p><p>“I have to go. I’ve got lunch plans.” Joe stood up and gave Andy a hug. Swinging her around just to hear her laugh before saying his goodbyes. She was always one of Joe’s favorite people. </p><p><i>Andy’s</i> had a fake entrance in a laundromat at the pointed corner of a street. Two blocks in one direction was a precinct in Andy’s pocket. Two blocks in the other direction was the thin border between Al-Kaysani and Genova territories. Marked by their respective tenements. Supposedly the feud started within the first year of Karim and Stefano landing in America. Desperate to slice off a chunk of the American dream. </p><p>Joe figured that hadn’t been the case. Their respective ethnic groups didn’t mix. The border existed because no one crossed the street. They’d both spread outwards, taking over adjacent neighborhoods. Joe always thought the feud actually started when both families started trying to pay off the same cops. </p><p>In a poetic way, it ended where the fable started. The boulevard park that separated the two neighborhoods. </p><p>That’s where Nicky sat, one arm stretched across the back of a park bench. Gun holster on accidental display along with the black line of suspenders against his chest. Nicky turned and saw him, that small smile tilting his lips. </p><p><i>I have to make this work</i> Joe thought. And knew instantly that he would. Even if he had to return to the fold he’d slipped out of so carefully the year before. </p><p>Nicky stood up, taking a couple steps towards Joe, then freezing, as if he remembered that the Boss of the Genovans shouldn’t be greeting Karim Al-Kaysani’s favorite nephew with a kiss. </p><p>Instead he waited until Joe was almost in front of him, and began to walk backwards as if he was afraid to lose him. </p><p>“Have you ever crossed the boulevard, Joe?” Nicky asked. </p><p>Joe chuckled, “For you I do all sorts of new and interesting things.” </p><p>“Hopefully this one won’t end in a fat lip and a hangover the size of Texas,” Nicky turned to walk side by side with Joe. His shoulder tilting to tap Joe’s ever so slightly. Anyone watching would think it was an accident. But Joe knew better.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>Nicky had never taken anyone home before. Not to the mansion, and not to <i>this</i> home either. All of his teenage explorations in romance had happened elsewhere. Completely separate from the life he lived with his family.<p>He always felt like it’d be odd to bring someone into it. As if he was breaking an unspoken rule about how his family treated significant others. Carina’s father was the wind for all Adele cared. Junior never mentioned a girl. His father never remarried. </p><p>But Joe, Joe was the one that Nicky led up four narrow flights of stairs, past little old ladies who stopped him to say he looked so much like his father and that they were sad when they heard the news. Each one taking a quick look at Joe who stood behind him, but not saying anything about him. </p><p>“Do you know everyone in this building?” Joe asked, as kids ran past them laughing down the hall. The smell of a hundred lunches wafted into the halls mixing together. </p><p>“We lived here first,” Nicky said, stopping in front of a door that he always thought of as home. Even though it’d been years since he’d been back. “When we arrived.” </p><p>He didn’t need to explain anymore to Joe. Joe knew what it was like to be new to a country, to not speak the language, to have to live with your entire family in a small room. </p><p>Nicky opened the door to the small room. A stove and a sink nestled on one side. None of the original furniture was still there, the double bed he had to share with Junior, the couch his father would sleep on, or Adele’s narrow cot wedged into the closet. All those things were old and dusty when they got them. Now the room just had one bed, and a couch. </p><p>Joe stepped in and Nicky tried to see it through his eyes. The peeling wallpaper, the dusty radio that crackled more than it played music, the tight tuck of the bed which said that Junior was the last person to crash there. The intricate lace curtains that blocked the mid afternoon sun from streaming in. </p><p>“You have a bathroom?” Joe asked, pointing toward the open door that led to a cracked porcelain sink. </p><p>“Yeah, we were lucky.” Nicky said, closing the door and leaning against it, “Did you?” </p><p>“No, we had to share with the floor,” Joe shot him a look, “not all of us were born with a silver spoon.” </p><p>Nicky laughed, for what felt like the first time in a century. “I missed you.” </p><p>The corner of Joe’s eyes crinkled, “I missed you too.” </p><p>“I know …” Nicky sighed, “I know we have a lot to talk about. But all I’ve wanted all week is a hug from you.” </p><p>Joe opened his arms in response. It was the easiest thing in the world for Nicky to take those last few steps and wrap his arms around Joe’s waist. Damn everyone else, all the rules and politics. He wanted to be in Joe’s embrace. </p><p>Joe wrapped his arms around Nicky’s shoulders, pulling him in tight like he always did. </p><p>“Are you not wearing tweed?” Joe asked, his voice pitched just above a whisper. </p><p>“I have suits that aren’t tweed.” Nicky said, mostly into Joe’s shoulder. </p><p>“Now that I’ve seen it I believe it.” Joe’s hands smoothed the back of Nicky’s suit jacket, before landing on Nicky’s shoulders and holding him back ever so slightly so they could be eye to eye. Nicky, as adverse to change when it meant letting go of Joe, clasped his hands together behind Joe’s back. “Now I say this with the deepest affection, habibi.” </p><p>“That’s not a great way to start a sentence,” Nicky said, narrowing his eyes at Joe. </p><p>“You look like shit.” Joe said, smiling as Nicky burst into laughter again, letting out a snort, “Still incredibly gorgeous, and I’d fuck you in a heartbeat, but when is the last time you slept?”</p><p>“Probably the night I left.” Nicky shrugged, “I managed to catch some sleep on the train but since I’ve gotten here it’s been one fire after another. And …” </p><p>When Nicky trailed off Joe kissed his cheek, just next to his mole. “Come, sit down and relax a minute.” </p><p>The couch was unforgivably hard and with clean lines. He’d bet money that it’d been Junior’s work. Joe sat it in it and winced, before patting the seat next to him. Nicky dropped down, letting Joe circle his shoulders with his arm. </p><p>“It’s a terrible couch. Junior had bad taste.” Nicky said, shifting to try and get comfortable. </p><p>“Did he live here then?” Joe asked. </p><p>“No, I did. When I was in college. Then Adele before Carina. I think Junior used to have meetings here with people in the building. Or maybe that was code for seducing some poor girl who just got here.” </p><p>“Ah, big brothers.” Joe squeezed Nicky’s arm, “I’m glad I came first.” </p><p>Nicky let out a huff, almost a laugh, before looking up at the ceiling. There was a long scrape just by the light fixture from the time his father had tried to move the couch and ended up accidentally yanking the arm off. </p><p>Just like that, the tidal wave began to crest, he took in a shaky breath. </p><p>“Nicky?” Joe tried to twist to look at him. Nicky just shook his head and looked away. </p><p>“It just - I knew bad things could happen to them. Hell at one point I was convinced your uncle would kill my father. We had contingency plans and conversations about it all the time. But I never thought I’d lose all three of them at once.” </p><p>Joe pulled Nicky closer to him, almost into his lap. Nicky twisted, pulling his feet up on the couch, but just laid on Joe’s shoulder, his back against Joe's thigh. He couldn't quite face Joe, not when he still had so far to go.  </p><p>“It’s alright,” Joe said, patting Nicky’s chest, before pressing a kiss to the back of his head, “let it out, habibi.” </p><p>“I can’t, there’s still work to be done.” Nicky said. </p><p>“If the tables were turned you’d insist the same.” Joe turned towards Nicky, pulling him closer to his chest. “Everything will get done.” </p><p>Nicky reached up and patted Joe’s hand. “You’re right. I just don’t think I’m ready to deal with it yet.” </p><p>“Ah, darling,” Joe kissed Nicky’s crown, Nicky could feel him opening his mouth to say something else. But he couldn’t handle consolation right then. </p><p>“I told him about you,” Nicky said. </p><p>“What?” Joe asked, his lips still at the edge of Nicky’s hair. </p><p>Nicky turned again, facing Joe and gripping the edge of the couch with his hands. “I was planning on asking you to come home with me. Meet my family. The last time I spoke to my father I told him about you.” </p><p>Something a bit too much like tears shone in Joe’s eyes, Nicky turned back around, leaning against Joe’s chest. </p><p>“He was excited. I’ve never brought a man home.” Nicky threaded his fingers through Joe’s, feeling the reassuring presence of him in his hand. </p><p>“Does it help to know that I’ve met him before?” Joe said. </p><p>Nicky nodded before asking, “What did you think of him?” </p><p>The silence stretched for a moment. Nicky turned to face him again, to see that Joe had almost closed one eye and his mouth was open. </p><p>“What’s that face for?” Nicky asked. </p><p>“I just feel like now is an odd time to tell you I thought he was handsome.” Joe said, ending with a wince. </p><p>“<i>What?</i>” Nicky turned fully, kneeling on the couch, pressing his hands against Joe's thigh, the muscle twitching in response. “You thought my father was <i>handsome.</i>”</p><p>“Not in the same way that I think you’re handsome. Just that he looked like a painting or something. An imposing Don in his manse.” Joe reached out and brushed his hands down Nicky’s arms, “Not in the same way at all. Impressive. That’s another word for it.”</p><p>“Did you also think Junior was handsome?” Nicky asked wryly, afterall most men he'd interacted with as a teen had secretly wanted Junior. They'd looked similar from a distance. It was only when you got up close that the cracks in Junior's beautiful exterior showed.</p><p>“No, his reputation preceded him and I avoided him like the plague.” Joe held up both of his hands between them. “I want to be completely honest from here on out.” </p><p>"Maybe too honest," Nicky said.</p><p>“No such thing. I also thought Adele was beautiful.” Joe said, and Nicky chuckled, sitting back on his haunches. “You’re a very beautiful family, no wonder you have half the city wrapped up in your fingers. And me specifically in yours alone.” </p><p>Nicky shook his head, still chuckling, watching Joe shift to face him better. Like they were a pair of magnets circling closer to each other, about to become inseparable. “I’m good with complete honesty as long as you promise me you didn’t have any indecent thoughts about my father.”</p><p>“Absolutely none. I reserved all indecent thoughts for his youngest son.” </p><p>Nicky propped his head on his fist, smiling down on Joe, who slouched down into the couch as if ready to be pounced upon. “All week I’ve been miserable. Five minutes alone with you and I feel …. Well better.” </p><p>Nicky let out another huff as Joe’s face lit up into a smile. </p><p>“Happy to help.” Joe said, “I’m here all week.” </p><p>“Are you really?” Nicky asked, “Why did you even come home?” </p><p>“I was at loose ends without you around,” Joe reached out, patting Nicky’s knee as if he couldn’t stand even the slightest bit of distance between them. “I had the feeling something was wrong, but I had no idea where you went. You said you’d be back in a month and I felt like if I was going to sit around I’d go crazy.”</p><p>“So you didn’t come back to ... “ Nicky frowned, struggling to find the words to voice his concern, “work again?”</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>#</p>
</div>Joe tried to find a way to answer the question that didn’t sound completely desperate. <i>Do you want me to work for you? I'll do it if that means we can stay together.</i><p>“I came home just to visit.” He finally decided on. Watching Nicky’s shoulders sag with relief. “Would it have been that bad?” </p><p>“Yes, no.” Nicky shook his head, “I don’t know. You being here complicates some things but at the same time it doesn’t.” </p><p>There was another lull, Nicky’s face returning to its usual stoicism. Still waters run deep and Joe knew better than to think Nicky wasn’t full of turmoil. </p><p>“You’re going to be here for a while,” Joe said, not asking. Nicky nodded, rubbing his chin. Joe knew that Nicky would make a good boss. He’d care about the little guys, protect the residents of the tenements, make sure that they weren’t taking advantage of the newcomers, and he wouldn’t be cruel. Still. What Andy said was rattling around in his brain. “Andy gave you a year.” </p><p>Nicky just looked at Joe, not bothering to ask the question, knowing that Joe would elaborate. How had they gotten so close in six months?</p><p>“She said that she gave you a year to wiggle out.” </p><p>Joe loved the minute expressions on Nicky’s face, how he could say so much with a clenched jaw or in this case the slightest smirk. </p><p>“Is her opinion of me so low?” Nicky asked, Joe opened his mouth to defend Andy, although he wasn’t sure against what before Nicky continued “I think all I need is six months.” </p><p>“Six months?” Joe asked, arching a brow, “to undo your entire family empire?” </p><p>“Not to undo it.” Nicky jerked his shoulder in a close approximation of a shrug, “find the right successor. My father never wanted me to take over. This was never the plan.” </p><p>Joe tried to imagine what the line of succession between him and his uncle was. He wasn’t even sure if he was on the map. His uncle had a host of confidantes who would step in as needed but the Al-Kaysani family had never been about blood. His uncle had started it when he was the only one in America, later bringing his siblings and their children over. He had no kids to pass on the crown to. </p><p>“What was the plan?” Joe finally asked.</p><p>“Adele was the plan. Papa used to say she had my heart and my brother’s hand. Whoever did this knew that, to pin it on Junior as if he was power hungry. They got it wrong though. He never cared about ruling, he just wanted to do what he wanted to do.” Nicky finally relaxed into the couch, clearly having an easier time talking about his family’s feelings rather than his own. “It’ll take me a couple months to figure out who would best follow in Papa’s footsteps, and another couple months to spread the holdings around. There were things that he wanted to stay in the family no matter what - like this building - and some other things he cared next to nothing about.” </p><p>Joe looked up at the building, not entirely shocked that Nicky’s family owned it. Afterall his uncle Karim owned the one across the street. “What happens after? Do you hang around?” </p><p>“No, hanging around splits the leadership and invites problems. I’d have crosshairs on me within a few months. No, I'd have to go somewhere. Probably far, come back for holidays or once in a while to chime in. Maybe I’ll spin a globe and let Carina put her finger on it. Go wherever it stops.” </p><p>Joe’s heart ached at the thought of Nicky so far away, across the world with his niece. Maybe in a cottage in the woods or on a beach somewhere. </p><p>“That is unless you have a strong opinion,” Nicky said. </p><p>Joe’s eyes snapped to Nicky’s. “What?” </p><p>“If you have someplace you want to go,” Nicky shrugged, “maybe Greece, you mentioned once wanting to see the parthenon.” Nicky propped his chin on his fist, “or we could go to England to see all the stolen statues.” </p><p>“You…” Joe trailed off, unsure of where he’d gotten confused “you want to take me with you?” </p><p>Nicky frowned, ever so slightly, “well not if you don’t want to come. You have your life and your network upstate.” Nicky looked contemplative for a moment, “maybe we could go up to Canada and that would be far enough. Then we could see each other frequently.” </p><p>“I thought you were going to break up with me,” Joe finally said, staring at Nicky with quiet intensity. </p><p>“What?” Nicky said, “When - why would I do that?” </p><p>“I’ve probably killed some of your men,” Joe pointed out, trying to be reasonable. </p><p>“You didn’t kill any of my family -” Nicky started, Joe tilted his head slightly. </p><p>“Well-”</p><p>“Joe, your alibi for that night was me,” Nicky pointed out, “fucking you all night while a little drunk on bad whiskey.” </p><p>“In the feud I meant,” Joe said. “I was an enforcer.” </p><p>“No one who died then was my family. You weren’t even around for the worst of it,” Nicky shot back, “if anything you should be breaking up with me because I probably killed some of your Uncle’s men.” </p><p>“That was before we even got here,” which, Joe realized as soon as he said it, was disloyal to his uncle, who had done nothing but give him opportunities, “besides there’s a truce.” </p><p>“Listen, if you were anyone else I’d walk away without a look back, but you’re not. You’re …” Nicky trailed off, studying Joe for a moment before continuing. “I’ve never felt the way I do with you.” </p><p>Joe smiled at that, because whenever he felt like the only person in the world he realized that Nicky was right there with him, “I feel the same way.” </p><p>“I can’t lose you because of shit we did to survive before we knew each other,” Nicky said, “I’ve hated your uncle in the past, plotted against him too, and for that I’ll repent for the rest of my life. And if that’s a deal breaker for you I understand.” </p><p>“It should be a deal breaker,” Joe said, reaching out to cup Nicky’s neck and brush his thumb on the soft skin in front of his ear, playing with his perpetually short sideburns, “I don’t know why it’s not.” </p><p>He actually had a suspicion that Nicky could kill him and Joe would thank him for it but that didn’t seem like a healthy thing to say aloud. </p><p>“It should be a deal breaker for me too, that you’re an Al-Kaysani, but it isn’t. I just can’t imagine life without you and I’ve already lost so much,” Nicky’s eyes fluttered shut, but he opened them to look at Joe, intense as always, “but if you do not feel the same I will not hold it against you.” </p><p>Three little words bubbled to his mouth as they had so many times before. He’d choked them back each time, reminding himself that he hadn’t been completely <i>honest</i> with Nicky. But now Nicky knew everything. He should know the most important thing. </p><p>“Nicky, I love you.” Joe said, the words tripping out of his mouth in the rush to be free.</p><p>Nicky’s eyes lit up over the dark bags, enough that Joe used his hand to pull him close and kiss him like he meant it. Because Joe meant it with all of his heart. </p><p>Nicky’s hand curled in Joe’s shirt, twisting just enough that a button popped open as he nudged Joe back. </p><p>“I love you too, Joe.” Nicky said, saying his name quick and short like he always did. A punctuation more than anything else. As if his name belonged at the end of every sentence. </p><p>Kissing Nicky when he knew that they were in <i>love</i> not just <i>something</i> made Joe want to laugh just for the sheer joy of it. They lost a few minutes in each other, possibly hours, before Joe pulled back. </p><p>“Wait, what are you going to do about the killer?” Joe asked, having some ideas himself if only he knew … well anything about it. </p><p>“Oh, him?” Nicky shrugged, “I have a plan.” </p><p>“A plan?” Joe asked arching an eyebrow, “you’re not going to be deeply stupid and say something like <i>leave me alone to handle it</i>” Joe’s imitation of Nicky’s accent had the corner of Nicky’s mouth quirking. </p><p>“I thought about it.” Nicky smoothed a hand down Joe’s chest, brushing the wrinkles out of his shirt, “Then I realized that if the tables were turned I would not leave you alone.” </p><p>Sometimes Joe felt like he spent all of his life alone, with no one quite understanding him. Only to trip into this wonderful sensation of being known. </p><p>“Good,” Joe took Nicky’s hand in his own, “Together then.” </p><p>“Together,” Nicky said with a smile.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> Epilogue </p>
</div>Cicadas screams filled the air, hauntingly beautiful and a strict reminder that they were in the deepest part of summer. The nights would be short and the heat oppressive. Nicky wished that he could take the sling off his arm, but he knew that Joe would scold him for it. Instead he sighed deeply, and brought a steaming cup of tea to his lips. A bead of sweat dripped down his arm, pooling into the bend of his elbow.<p>“It’s not <i>that</i> bad,” Joe said, shifting in his seat as he looked across the never ending gardens. Karim stood at the edge of the pond, holding Carina’s hand as they looked down at the water together. </p><p>“Two months like this,” Nicky said, pointing to his arm, “I feel fine. He told me I can’t even jack off.” </p><p>Joe’s smirk was lecherous, and shot straight to Nicky’s core, “don’t worry Nicky, I can help you with that.” </p><p>“I can’t jerk <i>you</i> off either.” Nicky said. </p><p>“I’ve never complained about your mouth before.” Joe said, taking his own cup of tea to his lips, “I won’t start now.” </p><p>Nicky swore under his breath in Italian, which was pointless as Joe was entirely fluent. It was more about the energy. The indignity. “I’ve been shot before and I didn’t need to wear a stupid sling -” </p><p>“Mr. di Genova,” a deep british voice said from behind them, they both twisted in their garden chairs, looking up towards the newcomer. Joe set the newspaper he’d been reading down next to his saucer, before gently setting Stefano’s finest china cup down. </p><p>“Hello Detective Copley,” Nicky said, taking another sip of his tea as if he hadn’t been deeply annoyed just moments before, “do you have any news about my father’s case?” </p><p>“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met yet-” Copley said, holding out a hand towards Joe. </p><p>“Yusuf Al-Kaysani,” Joe said, shaking Copley’s hand but not bothering to stand up. </p><p>“Am I interrupting a meeting?” Copley asked, his eyes skating towards Karim by the water. Carina was in his arms by now, reaching for a butterfly that floated above them. Nile sat nearby on the grass, half watching them and half watching Copley. </p><p>“Just breakfast,” Nicky said, gesturing towards the abandoned dishes with crusts of toast and bits of egg still on them. He stood up, leaning against the white painted table, wishing the sling would allow him to wear his holster. Joe had a gun and that was all that really mattered. Even if Nicky was a more accurate shot. </p><p>“My uncle has decided that Carina might as well be one of his grandchildren since none of his nieces and nephews have decided to have children yet.” Joe settled into the chair, leaning his arm across the back of it to look up at Copley. They both could see Copley starting the math behind his eyes. How deeply settled the truce was now between di Genova and Al-Kaysani. </p><p>“Sorry to interrupt, but I do actually have some news to share with you, if we could step into the house for a moment?” Copley twisted at the waist, gesturing back towards the overly elaborate mansion. Nicky’s eyes flicked up to the room on the corner that he’d laid claim to for the time being, and that he’d dragged Joe into as well. </p><p>“No need, anything you want to say to me you can say to Joe as well,” Nicky said, wondering if Copley hadn’t fully put it together yet. He wasn’t a fan of PDA but he could sit in Joe’s lap if Copley needed a better hint. Joe, for his part, just grinned up at Nicky like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  </p><p>“Alright,” Copley hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I had a feeling there was a mole in your… company. Your brother being left handed was a clue. I had narrowed down on someone and was working on the warrant…” He trailed off, his eyes politely glazing over Nicky’s sling, he looked at Joe again before continuing. “Do you know a man who went by Keane?” </p><p>“Sure I do. He was very sad after my father passed. Didn’t have the heart to keep running the laundromats. He left a week or so ago,” Nicky said, looking down at Joe, “do you remember Keane?” </p><p>“Can’t say that I do,” Joe said, rolling his shoulders back and folding his hands behind his head. </p><p>“Was he the man you were trying to get a warrant for?” Nicky asked. “If so I wish I could help you but he left no forwarding address.” </p><p>Copley leveled a gaze at Nicky, almost a smirk forming on his face, “he was pulled out of the harbor this morning. His neck broken.” </p><p>Nicky kept his face as straight as possible, his shoulder giving a quick throb of pain to remind him that he wasn’t playing a game, “how terrible. He fell in the harbor?” </p><p>Joe looked away, the back of his head towards Copley, pretending to study Nile under her tree. As if Copley wasn't indirectly asking them about their part in Keane's discovery. </p><p>“It would appear that way,” Copley opened his mouth to continue before shutting it, and giving Nicky a quick nod, “I’ll keep you updated on your father’s case. Let me know if you hear anything else.” </p><p>“Of course detective,” Nicky said. </p><p>Joe lifted a hand from the back of his head, not bothering to turn around as he waved. </p><p>Copley walked back up the sloping lawn, towards where Jimmy waited to escort him back inside. Nicky sank back in his seat, watching Karim toss a laughing Carina up in the air. </p><p>“He knows,” Joe said, reaching out to twine his fingers with Nicky’s. Nicky knew he wasn’t talking about their relationship.</p><p>Nicky didn’t bother to respond. It wasn’t like he and Joe were going to stick around for that much longer. Instead he scooted his chair ever so slightly closer to Joe’s side. “We should take her to the carnival later. I think she’d like that.” </p><p>“Uncle is going to spoil the shit out of her,” Joe said. Nicky was sure he wasn’t wrong. But what was the point of having grandparents if you didn't get spoiled?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is set in Prohibition Era Americas because ... - shrugs - but if you want to imagine Junior as a 1920s style Primo Nizzuto then I'm not stopping you. I've only seen one clip from Trust though so. </p><p>I'm dealing w my emotions by churning out fanfiction </p><p>Let me know if you spot any errors! I hope you enjoyed!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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